


ripe

by doublejoint



Category: One Piece
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:21:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27766657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doublejoint/pseuds/doublejoint
Summary: Understand without knowing; know without seeing.
Relationships: Roronoa Zoro/Trafalgar D. Water Law
Comments: 10
Kudos: 40





	ripe

The peaches they’d picked are still a little underripe, a little less sweet than they’d be in a week or two, but Zoro prefers them this way. His teeth tear through the skin, and the flesh isn’t quite soft enough to melt into his mouth, but the fruit is small enough that he’ll only need a few more bites.

“You should sit up when you eat,” says Law. 

Zoro takes another bite, a little noisier, nudging Law’s knee with his shoulder. Despite his words, Law isn’t pushing Zoro’s head off his lap, but taking smaller bites of his own peach, rotating it in his hand. From this angle, in the low light from behind them, Law looks a little different, the circles under his eyes more pronounced, like bruises on the inside of a fallen fruit, unlike the pristine ones they’ve been eating. 

A breeze picks up and Zoro curls his toes against the ground. Law’s arm, draped across Zoro’s chest, momentarily tenses, and then relaxes again. The breeze dies down but it still feels a bit cooler than it had, the pleasant warmth of the evening slightly diminished. Zoro looks back up at Law, but Law’s not looking at him; his face is pointed forward, chin jutting out. He doesn’t like cold weather much, or even a hint that it might be coming unexpectedly--or perhaps he’s thinking of something else, the particular slap of a particular cold wind, or of a different fruit in his hand. A thing he won’t say out loud yet, but whose outline Zoro can see, fuzzy and faded, its imprint shallow on the surface of the man who sits here, but written deep within him. He’ll tell Zoro the rest if and when he’s ever ready, if he needs to, but Zoro can understand it without knowing it. 

His look is heavy enough that Law turns his head back down to look at Zoro. Zoro buries his hand in the folds of Law’s clothes, cupping his hipbone through two layers.

“What?” says Law.

His face is softer than his voice; it’s still (like him) a little bit unripe, a little bit sour, but he contradicts himself, the weight of it held easily in his hands. He sighs, his expression remaining a little loose, enough that Zoro wants to find a string to pull and make him unravel, make him feel like it’s okay to be pulled off a tight spool. 

Law’s fingers are sticky on his cheek and in his mouth.

* * *

Zoro’s always heard that peaches don’t ripen right on the table, that they need to be left on the trees just the right length to be picked. The ones they pick later, from higher on the tree, are much sweeter than Zoro’s ever had, but he doesn’t mind something that sweet every once in a while. It’s not thick and cloying like syrup used to preserve, but light and crisp, like a snapping summer breeze. This time they eat standing, Law with his sword tucked in his arm as usual, as if he’s on guard--but really, he’s just a little bit restless, ripening, ready to let go of the twig holding him onto the tree, seeing things as nearer than they are because his eyes are focused on something far in the distance. It makes Zoro feel like stepping a little closer, just to remind Law that he’s still here, that the world isn’t only what’s straight in front of him. 

Zoro’s not the kind of possessive to tilt Law’s face around to his, to say, if not in words, only look at me. It’s not what he wants, or anything close to it. He doesn’t want to swap himself with whatever’s in Law’s field of vision, metaphorical or no, as narrow as it may be. In the distance, a lone cricket chirps, caught by itself, the sound almost like the creak of churning the ashes from the bottom of a barbecue grill. Now Zoro does step a bit closer, awaiting a breeze that doesn’t come. He catches Law’s eye, and Law’s hold on his sword slackens a sliver of a degree.

* * *

The vendors in the Flower Capital sell fresh peaches, dried peaches, peach nectar, peach blossom perfume with a sickly-sweet smell, a mockery that the citizens throw their money at anyway. Zoro considers buying some fruit, but only briefly; he’s had enough for now and his money’s better spent on sake, and on food more filling. The evening sky is soaked in red paler than blood, and he eats alone, walking down one street, up another, through a third that looks as if it could be the first (perhaps it is). The flicker of a tea light brings to mind the color of Law’s eyes, Law’s face near his. This isn’t the kind of thing Zoro could tell him about later, but rather the kind of thing he’d like to have Law here for, with him. 

Law could still end up coming here, if they stay infiltrating for long enough. He’d never walk next to Zoro when they’re trying to be disguised, and he’d probably be right to do so, but--some other time, perhaps, or some other place. The opportunity will come, another peach falling from the tree, and Zoro is confident in his ability to reach up and catch it in his hand without it bursting or bruising. 

There are no spare crickets in the city, too much light to have an expanse of darkness to stare into endlessly, though the sky is bleeding into black. Zoro keeps his hand near his swords, regardless. His fingers are clean, his mouth warm with alcohol. The wind picks up, blowing at his clothes, bringing nothing with it, even a slight shiver. Zoro’s footsteps sound louder in his own ears. Wherever Law is, he hopes it’s warm enough, especially if the sun’s already set all the way. He doesn’t have to hope Law’s got his own sword at the ready, though; that much is obvious without knowing, without seeing, and more certain than the taste of a strange peach on his tongue. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
